


No Regrets

by Swlfangirl



Series: MK's A Jerk [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awful Puns, Don't answer that, M/M, Possibly Pre-Slash, almost of the scooby doo variety, but I thought it was funny, but they totally end up falling in love because when don't they?, just ridiculousness tbh, mk made me do it, umm really cheesy villain, you could consider this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9348980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swlfangirl/pseuds/Swlfangirl
Summary: I don't really know what this is but it started out as Derek being asked to be in the super villains club by his professor and somehow I've made Stiles an undercover supernaturally aware cop (we are ignoring the fact that I gave him the same name lol). Just blame MK it's seriously all her fault. Everything is...she draws in inspirational ideas like a damn nemeton and I'm a helpless minion she forces them onto and they never quite turn out how I expected but here we go.Also plenty of cheesy puns and dog jokes.





	

Derek used a little of his enhanced speed as he rushed to class, if he hadn’t he’d have been five minutes late and his professor was a real dick about punctuality. Professor Pinclenick, or Professor  _ Pencil Dick _ depending on the day, was pretty much a dick about everything though. 

 

At least he was consistent. 

 

It had actually been a little refreshing to find someone so unapologetically horrid. Pinclenick wasn’t mean just to be mean, or difficult without cause. He just didn’t waste time on anyone who he didn’t believe was actively involved in bettering themselves. Derek preferred that kind of asshole over the one that faked a smile, pretended to be nice, and then struck a matchstick to watch your family burn.

 

He shuddered as he sat at his lab table in the far left corner of the room. It was a bit drafty, so he pulled his jacket in around him as if to say that was the reason for his full body shake. Class started precisely at nine-fifteen and Derek took a deep breath, bringing himself back to the moment. Anchoring his humanity to the room - the sounds, the smells of the other humans around him and just let that rid him of the worst of the vicious thoughts in his head.

 

“I expect these papers to be intelligible for someone with a decent IQ and that you, my  _ willfully ignorant _ subjects, not waste my time once again,” he said, looking down his nose at certain students in the first row. He made a suffering sigh and surprised Derek by turning to him. “Mr. Hale, since you’re the only one that can seem to string more than one cohesive paragraph together, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay after class or visit me during my office hours. The rest of you are free to go.” 

 

Derek tried not to blush under the professor’s compliment but he found the tips of his ears getting excessively warm regardless. He took his time as the other students began to filter out of class. He gathered his things slowly, throwing the messenger bag over his shoulder and doing what he could to keep himself in check. He had no idea what his professor wanted of him but it would be best not to get his hopes up or think that he was actually any kind of model student. Though part of him was pleased at the praise Pinclenick gave him, he was still wary of the sudden attention. 

 

“You wanted to see me?” he asked quietly once everyone had left the room. He wasn’t good in social situations, or he hadn’t been since the fire. Laura had tried to help him, guide him back into society like her own personal baby bird, but that had led to Jennifer, who was the second psychotic girl naive little Derek let get too close. 

 

“Ah Mr. Hale,” the professor said, smiling back at him with a wicked grin.

 

“I wasn’t lying, you know. You really are the only intelligent student in this godforsaken class… I’d hate to see those talents wasted. How would you feel about meeting some of my friends and collegues?” Pinclenick asked, leaning casually against the large oak desk he rarely ever sat behind. 

 

Derek felt more than heard his heart rate spike at the suggestion. He wasn’t ready for anything remotely close to that but Laura would kick his ass if she found out he’d turned them down and somehow she would just know. Derek was starting to believe that she had spies on campus. 

 

“I don’t know…” Derek started but was quickly cut off. 

 

“I’m sure it would serve you well to have a friendly relationship with some of the most influential people in this area. Think about it. You can meet me at Morten’s tomorrow after dinner if you find yourself interested,” he said, appearing to be done until he paused and turned back to face Derek. “I don’t have to tell you to arrive on time and be appropriately dressed, do I Mr. Hale?”

 

“No Sir,” Derek answered.

 

“Good, and perhaps you should call me Wesley outside of class. Unless you’d prefer to call me Pencil Dick in front of my friends,” he paused as Derek’s eyes went wide. “If anything I’m offended by the lack of creativity. Really, Derek. I expected more of you.” 

* * *

 

Derek knew the moment he’d gotten the invitation that he’d be here. He was dressed in his nicest suit. It was grey and he’d worn it with an expensive black dress shirt of Peter’s that he’d  _ borrowed _ , much like his Uncle  _ borrowed  _ a lot of things. He figured it was time for a little payback. Then because he wasn’t good at making decisions, and far too nervous for what was to come, he called Laura until she forced him to promise to wear the maroon tie with it.

 

He looked good, but Derek always looked good. He didn’t do it intentionally and it had only ever caused him pain, but it was still true no matter what he did. Derek knew how people looked at him, could smell their want most of the time but he’d learned to phase it out a little. Still he was quiet, shy, and he wore a grimace and a leather jacket to keep people from getting too close. There was a time when he sported a constant smile and light colors that complimented his eyes, but then his parents died and now he’s not so eager to appeal to anyone.

 

The sarcastic voice he kept buried in his core liked to remind him that the universe only made him pretty so it would enjoy fucking him over a little more. 

 

Sighing, he decided to leave because if he waited any longer he’d be late and that wasn’t something he’d allow. Derek would rather not show up at all than show up late. There had been more than just a little condescension in Prof- _ Wesley’s _ tone when he’d mentioned it.

 

Derek arrived at the restaurant with more than a few minutes to spare, but he was conscious of his professor’s time and didn’t want to run the risk of wasting it.. He glanced in the mirror again just to make sure his hair was still in place and he didn’t look as much like a kid playing grownup as he felt he did. Some weird part of him still expected to see the shy dork he was at eight, stomping around the house in his dad’s big black dress shoes and the suit jacket that went way past his knees. A whole lot more of him wished he did.

 

He let out a deep breath, slid his aviators on, and popped his door open. His nerves ramped up a little but it wasn’t unbearable as he made his way inside the front entrance. There were more people than he expected but it wasn’t so packed that he felt claustrophobic, which was a fairly common thing for Derek to experience. 

 

The barstool was cold but Derek sat there until he drew the attention of a nearby waitress and she started toward him with a sickeningly sweet smile. 

 

“Hi my name is Heather, is there  _ anything  _ I can get you?” 

 

“No thank you, I’m just here waiting on my prof...friend, Wesley. He’s asked me to meet him in the back room,” Derek admits, almost hoping that she’ll offer to take him there but she doesn’t.

 

“Okay, I’m sure he’ll be here soon. Be sure to let me know if you need anything, absolutely  _ anything _ else while you’re here at Morten’s,” she said, sashaying as she walked away leaving Derek to struggle to keep his eyes from rolling. The last thing he needed was another girl like  _ that _ . 

 

He turned back toward the bartender and ordered whatever beer was on tap, he probably wouldn’t drink much of it anyway. Derek waited as the minutes ticked by slowly, impatiently getting more and more anxious by the second. 

 

When the sweet scent of vanilla mixed with something darker, more...intense popped up beside him, Derek realized one of his claws was starting to show. He pushed back the wolf quickly but it was worrying that it happened at all given that control wasn’t something that had been a problem for Derek  in over a dozen years.

 

“Woah buddy, might wanna keep the whole claw thing quiet...not everyone here is as accepting of weres as I am,” said a smooth voice. Derek turned to find whiskey brown eyes and an even heavier dose of that delicious scent. The last time he allowed himself to be drawn in by a flirtatious smirk and a pretty face she’d decimated his pack and orphaned him. 

 

_ Yeah, not falling for that again _ . 

 

Derek grunted but faced forward, needing not to show any weakness or interest for fear of sending the wrong message, or any message really. He took a drink of his beer and kept his head faced forward but the guy still didn’t seem to take a hint. 

 

“Hey, I’m Stiles. You must be Derek.” 

 

“Hunter?” Derek asked, because he had to whether he wanted to or not. It was ingrained in him now. Regardless of scent and the fact that the kid seemed friendly enough, anyone who knew about werewolves was a danger. 

 

“No? No, I’m waiting on Wesley. He said he was expecting a new guy today. Told me you looked like a kicked puppy with a chip on your shoulder and the finest ass he’d ever seen. I don’t think he knew how on the nose he was with the pup reference though. I’ll have to remember to ask him about it later,” Stiles said, chuckling a little as Derek felt a growl growing in his chest.

 

“Dog jokes, really?” Derek asked, somehow finding himself using actual words instead of expressions and if Laura wouldn’t smack him upside the back of the head for practically oozing sarcasm, she’d be damn proud of him. He might tell her about it later. 

 

“And there’s the kicked look again, dude sorry...didn’t know you were so sensitive. Scotty’s like totally cool with puppy jokes. He didn’t train me properly. I apologize,” Stiles answered and if not for the goddamn smirk Derek would have actually thought he was serious.

 

“Well, maybe it’s time you had a new master,” Derek growled, and then turned away mostly because he was surprised at the words that had flown from his mouth. 

 

“Kinky,” Stiles said, and Derek expected his senses to be overwhelmed by the scent of want, desire, and a bundle of other sensations that people usually felt around him. Much to his surprise only the peppery scent of magic came, making his nose twitch a little. “I think you could at least offer to buy me a drink first, senior lobo.” 

 

Derek’s brow rose at that. Sure, it was still probably a dog joke in Stiles’ mind and he wouldn’t look back over to give anything away, but Derek was mildly impressed that he was multilingually offensive. Actually, that’s pretty funny, he thought to himself and just as he was about to say as much Profess- _ no, Wesley, _ clapped him on the back and Derek’s mouth snapped shut.

 

“Glad  to see you made it, Derek. I hope Stiles hasn’t turned you off to the group entirely just yet,” he said as if he’d expected a response of some kind, but Derek didn’t have one. Well, not one that he would say in front of Stiles at least. The last thing he wanted to do was give the guy an ego boost. As odd and mostly offensive as their short conversation was, it was still probably the most he’d interacted with someone outside of Laura in a few weeks and he didn’t constantly find himself looking for an escape route like he usually did. 

 

“Come, I’ll take you on back,” Wesley said, drawing Derek’s attention back on himself while Stiles was surprisingly silent. Just when Derek thought he’d never shut up, he was actually starting to miss the sarcastic retorts and the smug smile on his face. Stiles somehow looked subdued, or maybe it was just that he finally started taking something seriously. 

 

Derek followed his professor in through a small entrance into the kitchen and continued on to a door on the side where there was an unusually large room that didn’t seem to fit in the small space the building had taken up on the outside. The restaurant was maybe three thousand square feet and this room seemed to be twice that on it’s own. His instinct said magic but even though he could smell it on Stiles earlier, there was nothing in the space itself. 

 

He didn’t bring it up. 

 

“Welcome Derek, to the room where all the big decisions are made,” He said, his voice echoing in a way that seems ridiculous in Derek’s opinion but Mr- _ Wesley’s  _ flair for the dramatic seemed to go even further than he was used to seeing. “You could even go as far to call us the puppet masters.”

 

Derek’s eyes flicked over to Stiles who was being strangely quiet and uptight. It was like looking at a completely new person and it felt wrong. So wrong that Derek found himself wanting to say something, wanting to shake the guy to bring out a smile, a smirk, or that warm hearty laugh. Anything, really. 

 

“Okay, but I still don’t understand why  _ I’m _ here,” he replied, once he caught a break in the few seconds of silence between  _ Wesley’s _ breaths. The man had a penchant for droning on and on and it was probably at least half the problem his classmates were having with their lectures. There were more days than not where Derek left with a headache, even as a werewolf. He didn’t like to think about what it might be like for the humans stuck in there with him.

 

“Ah, well to be one of us of course Derek. Wouldn’t you just love to have the ability to make decisions, make  _ real  _ change in the area?” he asked, more animated than Derek had seen him before. “Those buffoon politicians and other social rejects are mindless trolls ready to bow to our every whim. Just imagine what you could do with all that,  _ power _ .” 

 

Wesley was starting to creep him out a little. The way the guy looked like he was giving Derek his ‘o’ face when he said  _ power  _ was probably the worst part. It made him feel slimy all over and a strange feeling told him a shower wouldn’t really wash it away.

 

“Like what kind of change? What um..what do you do here exactly?” Derek asked, even though the sick feeling in his gut was clue enough. Somehow he figured that bettering child education, fixing up the bridge that collapsed last month, and bringing Doctor Who back to Netflix weren’t on the to-do list. 

 

“Well I hate to brag,” Wesley started, sending Stiles a stern glance when he and Derek heard Stiles choke on air, as if to say that’s exactly what he enjoyed doing.

 

“Sorry, y’know..breathing. It isn’t as always as easy as, well...breathing,” Stiles answered, his face was still fairly inexpressive but Derek could practically smell the sass he’d meant to add to it.

 

Derek was almost certain that Wesley wasn’t any the wiser but it brought a small quirk to the edge of his lips. “You were saying?” 

 

Wesley looked calm but the familiar acrid scent of rage was pulsing off of him in waves. It was enough to have Derek’s wolf on edge and he found himself moving between Stiles and his professor just on instinct. As if him being there would put up a protective barrier somehow. Sure, he didn’t know him well, but he knew enough. Derek had been through enough of his own shit to notice that the way Stiles hunched over and turned into a completely different person wasn’t exactly voluntary. Derek gave his professor another look, if nothing else hoping to distract him and of course it worked like a charm. Wesley didn’t need much encouragement to keep talking. 

 

“Anyway, as I was saying before, I don’t like to brag but I might have been the one to mastermind the recent spike in Nemeton Tech stock holdings,” he started, his voice full of arrogance and smug pleasure. Then his mouth twisted down in disgust as he continued, “Unfortunately, I did have to get my hands a little dirty for that one but sometimes if you want something done properly, you just have to do it yourself.” 

 

He was going to be sick, Derek could feel the nausea overtaking his stomach. The CEO of Nemeton was found dead a few weeks earlier, and was being replaced by someone half their age. The stock prices dropped of course, and they’d be worth ten times as much in a few short months. Wesley had killed someone all to buy stock in Nemeton Tech at unreasonably low prices.

 

A woman was actually dead just because his Eco professor wanted to make obscene amounts of money. 

 

_ Fuck _

 

Derek knew he needed to get out of there, get Stiles out of there, like yesterday, but he wasn’t sure how. If his professor was openly confessing to crimes, their options didn’t look too great. As much as it made his skin crawl, Derek decided to go along with him, if nothing else he might be able to convince him that he was interested enough to get out and then report him. 

 

“I’d heard that was an accident,” Derek said, for a lack of anything better to keep the man talking. 

 

“Well, Derek…” Wesley grinned, wrapping an arm over Derek’s shoulder. He did his best not to flinch or go still but it was a hard battle. The man smelled of death now and it wasn’t a pleasant scent. “The best murders always  _ look _ like accidents and it’s not as if Beacon Hills’ finest are going to supersleuth the use of magic. Sure, maybe they’ll suspect something is off but it isn’t as if there’s proof lying around.” 

 

“Ah,” Derek said, because the running and screaming ‘you’re a fucking psychopath’ plan got waylaid with fear the moment he said ‘magic’. Derek was strong, he wasn’t much of a fighter, but he wasn’t usually a coward either. But a few well-timed words and he could lose what little he had left and Derek doesn’t think it’s worth the risk for what would likely be a fight he couldn’t win anyway. No, better to play it safe for now.

 

“So, what do you think? You could make those kinds of changes, or any kind you want really. Stiles here doesn’t like to get his hands dirty so he usually sticks to what I like to refer to as the kiddy pool, but there’s no shame in that either I suppose.” 

 

Just as Wesley shifted around a desk, Stiles was on him almost instantly. He pressed himself up against the man pinning him to the cherry wooden surface. Derek’s chest tightened at the grin Stiles wore as Wesley struggled and cursed beneath him.   
  
“Wesley Pinclenick, you are under arrest for the murder of Yasmine Deaton,” Stiles started, then looked up to Derek and fucking winked at him. 

 

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?” Stiles said, tying some sort of leather binding around Wesley’s wrists.

 

“Get off me you insolent, little child. I’ll make you pay for this, Stiles.”    
  
With the restraints in place, Stiles backed off a little but Wesley jerked back, forcing his head into Stiles and knocking him off just a little before attempting his escape. 

 

Derek stuck a hand out and grabbed at Wesley’s neck before he could get too far though, which only meant the man continued to drone on.  He cursed about how he could have ever thought Derek was good enough for his little group of douchebags, or something like that Derek stopped listening after the whining began.

 

As soon as Derek let go, Stiles took him down to the ground with ease. He slid a knee onto Wesley’s back and immediately added cuffs along with the surprisingly resilient leather.

 

“How foolish you will feel when I walk free in just a few short hours,” Wesley said, causing Stiles to roll his eyes dramatically.

 

“Yeah yeah…Hey, Derek, keep an eye on him. I need to get the door for my backup, I don’t think they know how to find or open it.” Stiles gave him that ‘what can you do’ look and then Derek remembered the magic. 

 

Derek gave him a confused look but accepted anyway, almost too relieved that it was over to really think about anything else. “Yeah, sure.” 

 

“Awesome,” Stiles answered, fiddling with the door in an attempt to figure out how to open it, Derek assumed. It didn’t take long though before half a dozen people rushed in to cart his professor off to prison, or Eichen.  _ Probably Eichen _ . 

 

There was a flurry of people running in and out and Derek was starting to hope that he could make it out without getting pulled into the whole thing but not long after they dragged  _ Wesley _ out the door in cuffs, He was stopped by a handsome older man in a BHSD outfit.

 

“I’ll need to have a word with you, Mr. Hale, before I can let you go,” he said.

 

Derek nodded because he figured it wouldn’t be that simple. He hoped they didn’t think that he had anything to do with this crap. Sure, Stiles had been there to watch everything happen but it wasn’t like Derek ran away screaming when the guy confessed to murder, which should have probably been the appropriate response. So he wasn’t sure how far his plausible deniability would get him. 

 

He must have given away some sense of his fear because the man, who he then noticed was wearing a Sheriff’s badge laid a hand on his shoulder and tried to reassure him. “Don’t worry, Derek. It won’t take long and I’m sure you’ll be on your way. Can you just go through what brought you here tonight?” 

 

Derek told the sheriff that his professor kept him after class and invited him. He even used Laura encouraging him to at least try to make friends as a reason for turning up. The sheriff nodded along and allowed Derek the time to go through everything. Part of him was terrified he was going to leave something out by mistake. 

 

He answered a few more well placed questions and then finally was able to get the hell out of there. Derek almost stopped at the bar, if nothing else just to try to forget what had actually just happened back there, but his nerves were shot and he wanted to go see his sister more than anything else. Once he stepped outside though, the fresh air did wonders for him. It wasn’t a cure-all but Derek hadn’t realized how trapped, how claustrophobic he’d felt until he wasn’t anymore.

 

The crisp breeze and open space felt like water in the desert.

 

Just as he was about to slide down into his car, Stiles came rushing out the door.

 

“Derek! Hey, Derek!” 

 

Letting out a small sigh, Derek lifted his gaze back toward the entrance where Stiles was jogging toward him, his cheeks perfectly flushed and warm.

 

“Hey, I uh, I just wanted to thank you for your help back there.” 

 

Derek snorted because he knew that was a stretch, even for Stiles. “You did the hard part.” 

 

Stiles smirked and he could practically hear the  _ I’ll do your hard part _ , running through the guy’s mind but surprisingly, Stiles held his tongue. Instead, he just stood there smiling and biting nervously at his lip. “So...you’re free to go and all that but I was thinkin’ maybe we should have your number...in case there’s anything else that comes up.” 

 

Derek raised his eyebrows and fought against letting the corner of his mouth turn up, “ _ We _ or you?”

 

“Maybe just me,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as his cheeks turned beautifully pink.

 

For the first time in a while Derek actually  _ wanted _ . He wanted Stiles for himself.   
  
“Yeah, okay. Call me,” he said, pulling the pen from his console. He dug for a receipt and scrawled his number across the edge because for a brief moment of overactive butterflies in his stomach, Derek genuinely forgot that he could just hand his phone over. Still, it seemed to make Stiles smile so he didn’t feel too embarrassed. 

 

There was a glint in Stiles’ eye and Derek should have known it was coming but he was honestly surprised when “That sounds  _ paw _ some,” popped out of Stiles’ mouth. 

 

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?” 

 

“You mean you aren’t already?”

 

“Little bit,” Derek answered, tightening his face as best he could but still his lips quirked up in fondness at Stiles’ ridiculous pun. 

  
He could have certainly done worse.


End file.
